


got to be sedated to be seen

by firelordazulas



Category: Gone Girl (2014), Gone Girl - Gillian Flynn
Genre: F/F, got hella romo at some point accidentally ??? soz abt that, this is just silly + nice + gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelordazulas/pseuds/firelordazulas
Summary: Then Detective Rhonda Boney starts to frequent The Bar. You smile at her, share a Look with her, and pour her a glass of good bourbon without accepting the money she tries to force on you. Boney is quiet and contemplative and doesn’t engage you in conversation - but she comes back.





	got to be sedated to be seen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helenecixous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenecixous/gifts).



> okay i fucked up so can we just imagine boney as kim dickens with her current hair instead of being brunette oh man

The aftermath is messy. Nick is no longer the brother you recognise - he’s not the sweet-hearted, hard-working, typical Missouri guy that you grew up with. He’s been darkened and changed and twisted by Her; he’s no longer the younger brother you’d rally with, no longer the two of you against the world. For his marriage, for her and the fictional baby they were determined to make a reality, he’d give up his world. And he has.

So you move on from. You discard him like yesterday’s trash, like you did with your father before him, and then Detective Rhonda Boney starts to frequent The Bar (you’re refusing to think about how Amy still owns it, how the deeds lie in a drawer in that bitch’s house.) You smile at her, share a Look with her, and pour her a glass of good bourbon without accepting the money she tries to force on you. Boney is quiet and contemplative and doesn’t engage you in conversation - but she comes back. She starts to come in and have a drink on the way home from most shifts, empty thermos of coffee left on the bar; one time you offer to fill it up for her, and that becomes her drink of choice instead of the alcohol. She takes it black, as strong as you can manage, but with about 7 tons of sugar in. You joke it’ll rot her teeth; she smirks and pointedly takes a long pull from the flask. The Bar is never strictly busy apart from those theme nights that you hate but are unfortunately necessary for the whole making an actual profit thing. You just stand leaning on the bar slightly to the right of her most nights, not saying anything. 

Until a tall, unnecessarily buff guy comes swaggering over, sits next to Boney. You don’t want to get involved; while it seems like she’s not interested, you don’t want to jump down her throat. Plus, you’re sure she can handle her own. She has a gun, for god’s sake (not that you’d noticed, or ever eyed the movement of hips appreciatively, or anything.) Boney’s attractive, you can’t really blame the guy for trying, but then he just keeps ignoring all Rhonda’s signals that she isn’t interested, that she feels uncomfortable with his arm around her. The douche canoe just keeps getting closer and closer. Then, Boney sends you a desperate look over her shoulder that spurs you into action.

“Hey, babe, this guy bothering you?” You act friendly enough, continuing to casually clean the glass in your hand even though it was already practically squeaking.

“We’re busy, but a beer and whatever this little lady wants to drink would be peachy.”

“I don’t believe I asked you.” There’s a note of both finality and threat in the clink of the glass hitting wood. “Babe, you okay?”

The shithead finally removes his arm, but doesn’t move away from where he’s got Rhonda caged in by his body. “I believe I asked for some drinks?”

“Alright, buddy, either move away from the bar or get the fuck out.”

“Why? I’m not doing anything wrong!”

“Now, there we just don’t agree. See, that’s my girl you’re hitting on, and see her posture? That’s her politely trying to tell you to fuck off. So, why don’t you do that. Actually, you know what, fuck this. You’re barred.”

“What?! You can’t bar me! I’m a paying customer, I have rights!” He stood and tried to menace you with his height and biceps.

Beyond the asshole’s back Rhonda stands, in her cop posture with her hip cocked and feet shoulder width apart. “Sir, I didn’t want to have to do this, but I will remove you from the premises if I have to.” And Boney does this little, neat arm gesture that pushes her blazer out the way and reveals her gun.

“Shit, you’re a cop? Fucking lezzos -” He’s still muttering, but he’s finally leaving, thank God.

“Why are men such fuckwads.” You sigh as you lean towards her over the bar, jut your chin towards her belt. “Nice trick, showing your gun like that.”

“It’s the first thing we learn in cop school.” She slouches against the bar opposite you, mimicking your posture. “So, I’m ‘your girl’ am I?”

Unexpectedly, you blush and look past her, dragging an awkward hair through your hair. “Ah, shit, sorry, you know what those assholes are like, don’t respect anything but competition.”

“It’s not a problem, I was just expecting you to jump in sooner.”

“Well, I didn’t want to interrupt if you were enjoying the attention. I mean, you have a gun; I figured you could handle him yourself.”

“He’s not exactly my type.”

“Oh, really? What is your type?”

She’d narrowed her eyes at your sly but innocent attitude, then laughed with her head tipped back slightly. “Pour me another drink and maybe I’ll tell you. Bourbon, this time. I need a real drink after that.”

You’d poured the two of you a drink each, then cocked your head to the side inquisitively. “So?”

“Why don’t you go first; tit for tat and all.”

“Hmmm.” You’d pretended to stare at the ceiling, deep in thought. “Well, my type is anyone who’ll let me fuck their brains out, usually. But I’m particularly partial to blondes.”

“You and your brother have that in common, then.”

“Ah, well, my girls aren’t usually trying to get the state to literally murder me.”

“Yeah… Your brother doesn’t have great taste, does he?”

“Nah, he doesn’t. It’s kind of funny though, he used to get so high and fucking mighty about his perfect relationship and how he found dating girls so easy and it’s kind of like… Suck on that, motherfucker, you know?”

“You two don’t have the perfect relationship you pretend to, do you?”

You laughed, short and bitter. “Nowhere even close. Especially now he’s gone back to the bitches clutches.”

“Men and their need for children is almost frightening.”

“Yeah, I’m always just like, get a cat! Or a dog! Have animal babies instead!”

“Is that something you want? Animal babies?”

“I’ve been thinking about getting a lizard, but like, I’m pretty hardcore and everything, but the thought of feeding live shit to it is… Just not appealing.”

That one eyebrow crept up again. “You think you’re pretty hardcore, huh? Which of us has the gun?”

“Is that a metaphor or like…” 

Rhonda had choked on a laugh. “Oh, my God. I should arrest you for crimes against good humour.”

“Oh, come on, you love it!”

“Only ‘cause you’re pretty.” You were left blushing as she quickly tossed back her drink and stood. “I should get going, got an early start in the morning.”

“Hey, wait! You never told me what your type is?” You really hope you don’t sound as desperate to her as you do to yourself.

“Oh, I like my girls with terrible senses of humour, obviously.” She’s walking backwards as she says it, all casual, smirking arrogance that you shouldn’t find as cripplingly attractive as you do.

“Well, I’ll be sure to let you know if I meet someone with your exacting specifications.”

“Yeah, you do that.” She gives you this look from the doorway; it’s like bottled warmth, a slow smile that spreads all through your stomach and makes you giddy.

Then she’s gone. You actually face-palm, groaning into your hand. You’re fucked. You’re so, so fucked. You’d known you were interested; you’d been attracted to her from the first time you saw her which, really, could anyone blame you for, but there’d been the small road bump in that she was prosecuting your brother for murdering his wife - that’d been enough for you to set it on the back burner. But now… Now she was here, all the time, a constant pretty little addition to the landscape of your life - a pretty addition with one hell of a bite.

With a groan, you realise you’ve been staring into space, thinking dreamily about what kind of kisser she’d be instead of actually serving your patrons. Now she was getting in the way of you doing your actual job. God fucking damnit. Did she wonder about your lips while she was at work? Was Detective Rhonda Boney ever distracted from her work by thoughts about pretty girls? Honestly, you couldn’t really imagine it; she always seemed so buttoned up, that smirk carefully controlled behind a veneer of icy distance. Maybe that’s what had drawn you to her in the first place - you’d always had a weakness for girls with a facade. The duplicitous nature that women learnt and men reviled was one of your favourite things about a woman; Boney had in spades. 

 

You finally call her, invite her round for ‘coffee.’ You’re hoping to just fuck her out of your system, but instead the two of you don’t even manage to kiss - it’s the start of just many times the two of you sit up for hours, chatting shit about this and that and whatever comes to mind. It becomes the best, most precious friendship you’ve ever had. Boney reveals she has a teenaged daughter that doesn’t live with her and you’re there to quietly hold her hand, to offer her support, and it’s the first time you’ve found yourself not just waiting for your turn to talk. Your entire life has been about waiting for your turn, about waiting for there to be enough space for you to fill a room by yourself; it’s why you learnt to be funny instead of pretty, why you’ve never been able to make a relationship last more than 6 months. With Boney, though, you feel really, truly interested in everything she has to say. When she tells some long winded story about a case she’s working on you’re intrigued by more than just the movement of her hands. You want to drown in the cadence of her voice, to curl up within her psyche, to absorb as much of all the things that make her  _ her  _ as possible. You want to understand and nourish and protect her. You want to be by her side always. 

After your sixth meeting, not including the evenings she still comes to visit the bar, you practically melt into bed, filled with a blissful warmth just from being close to her. Finally, you realise, you have fallen in love. This is what love actually feels like. It’s all a bit miraculous, and unbelievable, and most of your subconscious is scoffing; it won’t last. It never does. She’s probably not even interested in you. She’s probably just putting up with you for someone to talk to.

You don’t think you’d mind overly much.

 

It’s 6am when she gets up to leave, almost 4 months after she first stepped into The Bar. The two of you have been talking for about 7 hours now, only stopping for breaks to pee or get drinks - you’ve long since moved onto the bourbon and you’re both sleepy tipsy. 

Without thinking, you reach up to tug on her hand, rather petulantly. “No. Stay. I promise not to molest you.”

“What if I wanted you to molest me?”

“Then I’d have to tell you to wait until the morning - I’m way too tired right now.” And just on time you break into a massive yawn. “Come on, I have a massive bed, you can borrow a toothbrush and a shirt to sleep in.”

“Fine, if I have to.”

“Great! It’d be really awkward if you had to arrest yourself for trying to drive home right now.”

She’d sighed at you, but it was tempered by the indulgent little smile that flickered around the edges of her mouth. “Where are the toothbrushes?”

 

When she joins you in bed, only wearing one of your old University of Missouri shirts, you don’t quite mean to immediately wrap your arms around her. You sigh quietly, breath in the scent of her hair, as she snuggles back into your arms. It feels so disgustingly natural. 

“Why do you get to be the big spoon?” She murmurs, eyes already closed.

You smile into her hair, the tip of your nose just touching the nape of her neck. “I got here first.”

“We get a night each.”

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from audibly squealing; she wants to do this again. You’re going to get to hold her in your arms again.

 

Sunlight wakes you to empty sheets. Your heart starts to race, but then you hear the coffee machine going, see her jeans on the floor, and you know she’s still here. Getting out of bed is never a graceful affair for you; sleepily, still yawning, you stumble into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

When you emerge into the kitchen, following the scent of coffee, you’re slightly more awake. You’re still not ready for the sight of Boney slouching against your kitchen island, wearing only the Missouri shirt and sipping some coffee while looking out into the middle distance. The sun is shining on her face and you’re pretty sure you can hear birds singing and just when did your life turn into some kind of strange fucking fairytale? Was the universe trying to make some kind of twisted recompense for the hellscape that was your entire close family?

She turns to you, bright smile lighting up your face, and honestly if you died right now it’d be worth it. “Hey. Sleep well?”

“Definitely the best night I’ve had in awhile. Is that coffee?”

“Mmmhm, I made you a cup when I heard you in the bathroom.” And, like the goddess she was, she’d casually slid a mug closer to you.

“You’re the best person I know, you know that right?”

She’d chuckled, annoyingly awake for only about 4 hours sleep. “I did know that, yes. Not that I have much competition, of course.”

“Oof, harsh. Careful, Detective, don’t wanna have to accuse you of bias against some of the very people you’re supposed to protect.”

“Yeah I think it’s a bit late to warn cops against that. Anyway, I should get going.”

You’d pouted and leant closer to Boney, leering obviously. “Are you sure, Detective? I’m sure I could think of something to keep you entertained...”

“Now, see, that’s a promise you never make good on. Like, you haven’t even tried to molest me and honestly I was looking forward to it.” There was an edge of joking to her voice but the furrow of her brow… She was serious. This was serious.

You’d immediately straightened up and stepped properly into her space, lifting a hand to her cheek. “Sorry, I’ll stop trying not to go to jail.”

“Good.” It was almost a grumpy little grumble, before she finally leant in and kissed you.

It was innocent, in a way that all first kisses are, but she didn’t waste her time about it. Rhonda’s hands were immediately under your shirt, feeling the still bed-warm skin on your back and hips, pushing you into the kitchen island. It was the first time you’d really been able to feel the 3 inches of height difference between you, with Rhonda’s extra height allowing her to firmly box you in.

“Wait, wait, wait!” You’d gasped, pulling back slightly but continuing to breathe the same air. “Does this mean I get special cop privileges? Is it true that Dunkin’ Donuts gives you 20% off, ‘cause if so I wanna take advantage of that-”

“Oh, my God, do you ever shut up?” But she was grinning into another kiss, hands soft and sure under your shirt as you traced the skin of her neck, wound your fingers through her hair. 

“No, but seriously, as a cop’s girlfriend I think the community should have to give back to me in some way-”

“I should leave right now, then we’d see how much the ‘community giving back to you’ matters.”

“You’d be back, they always are.”

“Mmm, probably… You have a damn good coffee maker.”

**Author's Note:**

> anyway where'd all that romo come from i have no idea 
> 
> the titles much heavier than the actual fic but u know w/e it's from lie lie lie - metric
> 
> this is 4 betsy bc this became a thing after i rewatched most of gone girl with her, and then the only reason i actually finished it is bc she wrote an amazing fic + it reminded me they were a thing that i love so yeah thanks bro


End file.
